“Do
you mind calling my son?” the patient asked him. “My two grandsons
tomorrow morning are going to crawl in my bed because they wake me
up on the weekends, and if I’m not there, they will wonder.”
Twelve hours later, the man needed a ventilator. After a day, his
kidneys started to fail. In three days, he was dead - one of 151
people who had succumbed to COVID-19 in Louisiana by late Sunday.
The state has confirmed 3,540 cases since March 9 - among the
world’s fastest-growing infection rates. That pace, Governor John
Bel Edwards has said, signals that the state could become the next
Italy, with overwhelmed hospitals forced to turn patients away.
Frontline health workers scrambled to prepare for that grim prophecy
as patients started to stream through their doors last week. The
governor said on Face the Nation Sunday that the state has only a
tiny fraction of the about 13,000 ventilators it will need, and that
it has yet to receive federal approval to tap a national stockpile.
In New Orleans, the state’s epicenter, authorities are setting up a
field hospital to handle the expected overflow of patients at the
Ernest N. Morial Convention Center - the same site where thousands
of Hurricane Katrina refugees suffered in 2005.
Then as now, many doctors fear they won’t get enough supplies and
support to keep up with the deluge of victims. This time they are
fighting a pathogen that threatens them - and their families - every
time they extend a hand to help a patient.
Krajewski, a 31-year-old Cincinnati native who is just two years out
of residency, works the overnight shift at St. Bernard Parish
Hospital, in a working class suburb just east of the city. After
work, Krajewski comes home to his newborn son, Cal, just three weeks
old, and his wife Genevieve. He strips off his clothes on the porch
before entering his house. He drops his glasses and phone into a
small UV light sterilizer and heads straight to the shower.
"I come home – and I'm horrified," Krajewski said. "I'm wearing an
N95 respirator-level face mask anytime I'm near my child, and that
is after I've fully decontaminated.”
Doctors across New Orleans are calling colleagues in New York and
Seattle, sharing intelligence on the virus. They trade suggestions
on how to hook two patients up to a single respirator. Some health
workers are renting out apartments to quarantine themselves from
their families, said Joseph Kanter, an emergency room physician and
lead public health official for the New Orleans area.
“They’re using all these stop-gap measures” to protect themselves,
said Kanter, calling it a “damning indictment” of the nation’s lack
of preparedness for such a pandemic.
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‘IT CAN HAPPEN TO ME’
With more than 141,000 infected and nearly 2,500 dead in the United States,
health workers in hard-hit places like New Orleans are feeling the strain of
taking in hundreds of contagious patients who often deteriorate quickly.
While older patients are by far the most at-risk, some Louisiana doctors say
they have been shocked at the severity of some cases in which younger people
have just one underlying condition, such as hypertension or diabetes. Some
patients in their 30s or 40s have been quickly put on life support, said Jeff
Elder, an emergency physician at University Medical Center in downtown New
Orleans.
Such cases are worrisome because doctors are still struggling to understand why
certain younger patients are hit so much harder than others - and because they
make younger caregivers fear for their own safety.
“You treat them and think, ‘If it is happening to him, it can happen to me,’”
said Elder, who is 40.
EXPONENTIAL RISE
Louisiana’s soaring infection rates mean some hospitals will have to start
turning away patients in the next week unless statewide efforts to curtail
social contact start to show an impact, Governor Edwards has said. The
governor’s pleas for residents to stay home in daily news conferences have
become increasingly laced with anger and frustration.
“It's not that hard to understand!” Edwards said on Friday, talking about what
awaits New Orleans. “The trajectory we're on right now takes us to a place where
we cannot meet the demands on our health care system.”
Even as fears rise inside overtaxed hospitals, caregivers are working in an
unsettling silence. Many have bans or severe limitations on visiting family
members, who normally fill their hallways with conversation, comforting loved
ones and waiting on scraps of news.
Patients with COVID-19 suffer quietly, too. In survival mode, they focus almost
solely on breathing. Fevers make them sweat through their hospital gowns as they
sit upright in bed, the position that makes it easiest to breathe. Ventilators
hum in the background.
Krajewski decided early in college to become a doctor, in part because of a
self-described hero complex. In his young career, he has thrived on seeing
patients get well in response to his treatments.
That’s all changed in the last few days. He has put about a dozen patients on
life support, and only one has come off. Five have died.
“There is a sense of gravity when you know you are one of the last people that
will talk to somebody,” Krajewski said. “Those conversations are happening more
often.”
(Reporting by Brad Brooks; Editing by Brian Thevenot)
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